


Show me

by lastoneleft



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Jean and Eren have feelings and no idea how to talk about them, M/M, Mikasa and Armin are hammered
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 10:00:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13901658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastoneleft/pseuds/lastoneleft
Summary: Jean has something to tell Eren and he isn't quite sure how to go about it.





	Show me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arlene0401](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arlene0401/gifts).



“Where'd Mikasa and Armin disappear to?” Jean shouts over the music.

Eren looks around the club, squinting through the strobe lights. He spots Mikasa and Armin on the dance floor. Mikasa is ripping it up out there, eyes closed, screaming the words, and Armin is… doing some weird arm waving thing completely off-beat.

“Over there,” Eren calls back, pointing.

Jean follows his line of sight, expression a cross between amused and horrified when he sees them. “I know we were supposed to DD, but I'm not listening to them when they're this wasted without a few in my system.” Eren laughs, and shrugs. He doesn't mind being the only sober one. “C’mon, Jaeger.” Jean tips his head towards the bar. “We’ll take a cab.”

Eren almost argues, but he barely survived classes this week. So when Jean wraps a hand around his wrist and starts pulling him towards the bar, he doesn't resist.

“Think Armin and Mikasa need anything?” Jean asks.

Eren looks back in time to see Armin whack Mikasa in the face, then throw his arms around her in apology. Eren wouldn't doubt that he's crying. “Nah, they're good.”

Jean buys the first round. It goes down easy, leaves Eren more giggly and giddy than it normally would. Jean can't stop staring, and Eren can't bring himself to ask why.

Once Eren's back with more beer, Jean moves to sit next to him, weakly complaining about having to yell across the table and barely hearing Eren’s response. His thigh is solid and warm against Eren's, and Eren wonders how firm it'd feel under his fingertips.

Eren sputters, beer drizzling from the corner of his lip. He hasn't let himself have those kind of thoughts in a while.

Jean snorts. “Christ, dude, you're a mess.” He reaches out and wipes the beer from the corner of Eren's mouth with his thumb.

Eren blinks at him, tongue flicking out to swipe over where Jean's thumb has left warmth on his skin.

Jean shifts under Eren's stare, colour spreading up his neck and over his face, all the way to his hairline. Normally, Eren is fascinated with how Jean can blush so hard and so pretty, but tonight he's drawn to the way the flashing lights shine in the blond of Jean's hair, lighting it up with pinks, and blues, and purples. Eren’s fingers flex into loose fists. Jean's hair always smells good, and it looks so goddamn soft.

Eren reaches up slowly, makes sure to give Jean plenty of time to protest. Jean doesn't, he lets Eren run those long fingers through his hair, closes his eyes and leans into the touch. Jean smiles. It's small, but it's there and something something a little like hope and a lot like desire blooms in Eren's chest.

It's easy at times with how busy they are at school for Eren to forget just how much he likes Jean until it's just the two of them. There are times Eren thinks Jean likes him too. Times like tonight.

Eren almost says as much but someone crashes into their table and knocks their drinks over and Jean and Eren jump apart. The guy is in the middle of apologizing when the bouncer turns up and hauls him off.

Jean shakes his head. “Come on. I'll buy us another round.” He reaches for Eren's wrist again when they're up, but Eren isn't as close as Jean thinks, and their fingers wind up tangled together instead. Jean doesn't correct it, and neither does Eren.

Jean may not be able to look at Eren, but he doesn't let go once they reach the bar. He doesn't let go when someone tries to lean against the counter between them. He doesn't let go when he shouts his order to the bartender. He only lets go when Eren finally catches his eye, giving Eren's hand a quick, barely there squeeze before averting his eyes under the pretense of finding his wallet.

“So, there's something,” Jean says, decidedly focused on picking at his nails. “I've been, uh. Wanting to tell you.”

Eren's stomach flips, and he nods until he realizes Jean can't see him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” The bartender puts their drinks on the counter and Jean holds a finger up. “One sec, Eren. ‘Scuse me!” Jean motions for the bartender to come a little closer. “Can I get two shots of tequila, please?”

Eren's phone buzzes in his pocket, once, twice,  _ seven _ fucking times. Half are probably from earlier. He gets terrible reception here. He pulls his phone out while Jean pays.

[Mikasa]:

_ Wehre are yo _

_ Ere nwhere r u 2 _

_ Where eren _

_ WHERE _

_ TF _

_ ARE _

_ YU _

Eren rolls his eyes despite his amusement and types out a response.

_ WE’RE _

_ FUCKING _

_ GETTING _

_ DRINKS _

Jean turns back to Eren and Eren shoves his phone in his pocket.

Jean holds one of the shots out to Eren. They clink the little glasses together and toss the tequila back. Jean pulls a face and gives a full body shudder, half-heartedly telling Eren to shut up when he laughs.

“So, that thing I wanted to talk to you about,” Jean says. Jean is forcing himself to look Eren in the eye. Eren can tell by the way his fingers twist in the hem of his shirt. “I- Shit!” Jean topples into Eren, the girl who accidentally pushed into him profusely apologizing.

Jean waves her off with a nervous smile. 

“What was it you wanted to tell me?” Eren asks.

Jean nods, takes a deep breath. “I… um. I don't know how to say it.”

Eren smiles and tentatively says, “Then show me.”

Jean blinks, before letting out a shaky, “Okay.”

Jean cards his fingers through Eren's hair, carefully, just as Eren did. Pink dusts across Jean's cheeks again, and this time Eren brushes over it with his fingers.

Jean's eyes slide shut, and he leans in, slowly, slowly, slowly, until the tips of their noses slide against each other.

Then Eren is stumbling backward and Jean is blinking at him, hurt and confusion written over his face.

“Jean!” Eren calls.

Jean is already walking away.

Eren smacks into the bathroom wall and Mikasa sways as she glares. “Really, Eren?”

Eren rubs at the back of his head. “Really, Mikasa?” he mocks. “The hell was that for?”

Armin pushes his way in. “Mikasa, you're in the men's room.”

Mikasa waves her hand flippantly. “How could you bang Jean in a public washroom, Eren? I thought I raised you better than that,” she accuses.

_ “What?” _ Eren gapes. “I did not  _ bang Jean _ in the bathroom!”

“I told you,” Armin sighs.

“Thank you,” Eren says, exasperated.

“They probably did it in the car,” Armin continues.

Eren gasps.  _ “Armin!” _

“We came here in  _ my _ car!” Mikasa covers her face with her hands. “That’s it. I'm going to kill him. I'm going to kill Jean.”

Eren grabs her arm. He knows he can't hold her here against her will. He just needs her to listen. “I didn't sleep with Jean! What makes you think I did?”

Mikasa looks at him, perplexed. “Your texts? You said you were…” Mikasa shudders. “Fucking.”

“I did not,” Eren grumbles, yanking his phone from his pocket again. “See? It's all right here- Shit.”

Some of the messages didn't send.

[Eren]:

_ WE’RE _

_ FUCKING _

Not delivered:

_ GETTING _

Not delivered:

_ DRINKS _

Mikasa peeks over one shoulder, Armin over the other.

“Well, then,” Armin says.

“...Oops.” Mikasa nudges Eren. “Looked like something was about to happen. Shouldn't you go find him?”

“Shit!” Eren repeats, tearing out the door.

“You're encouraging it now?” Armin asks.

“They've liked each other for ages.” Mikasa squints. “They just better not fuck in my car.”

Eren finds Jean outside, pressed up against the wall, cigarette dangling from his fingers.

Eren finally catches his breath. “There you are.”

“Oh,” Jean deadpans. “You're still alive.”

Eren snorts. “Don't sound so disappointed. I might think you don't like me.”

Jean takes a drag off his cigarette. “I don't.”

Eren flinches. Jean pretends not to notice. “Why do you do this every time we-” Eren cuts off with a stomp of his foot. “Every time we get close you- You get scared and you-”

_ “I _ get scared?” Jean seethes. “I'm not the one who ran off just now.”

Eren throws his hands up. “Mikasa grabbed me! She thought we were…” Jean raises a brow. “Never mind. Just- I didn't leave. I got dragged.”

Jean scoffs. “Sure.”

“You think I ran backwards?” Jean doesn't respond, just places the cigarette between his lips. Eren grabs it and throws it on the ground.

“Hey!” Jean snaps.

“Smoking is bad for you, dumb ass.” Eren pulls Jean forward before he can complain again.

Jean tastes like smoke when Eren kisses him, like the remnants of cheap tequila. It's kind of nasty.

Eren can't get enough.

Jean pulls back, pupils blown wide as he takes Eren in. “You're the dumb ass.”

Eren kisses him again.

“Gross!” Mikasa calls from the door, arm looped around Armin’s shoulder.

“Sorry to interrupt, but she needs to get to bed,” Armin says sympathetically.

Jean buries his face in Eren's neck, too mortified to answer, but he grabs onto Eren's hand anyway.

“Let's call a cab and take them home,” Eren says. Jean nods. Eren grins. “Then you can take me home.”


End file.
